


In and Out of Love

by Stargazing121



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Band, Comedy, F/M, Romance, Unresolved Sexual Tension, rock music
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-10 01:35:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5563753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stargazing121/pseuds/Stargazing121
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Some of us, Granger, have a life.” Draco replied, untangling himself from the bed sheet and sitting up, “You should try it sometime.”<br/>“Maybe, Malfoy, I would occasionally get a life, if I wasn’t having to babysit your privileged behind all the time.”<br/>“So you’ve been thinking about my behind, have you Granger?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In and Out of Love

In and Out of Love

Hermione Granger’s heels clicked, as she made her way up the stairs to Draco Malfoy’s house.  
She was getting sick of have to do this, but as the band’s manager it was her responsibility, and she could not have Draco missing another recording session this month. Not with the rest of the band getting snarkier and more frustrated each day.  
They’d already had their lead guitarist, Marcus Flint, leave last month and Hermione knew that the band couldn’t take another morale hit like that again.  
So here she was to escort Malfoy to the studio, once more.  
Slipping her hand into her pocket she pulled out Malfoy’s spare key, which she had swiped from his house on her last visit: the one where he had taken half an hour to answer the door. 

Pushing the door open she made her way into the house, her nose wrinkled at the smell of sweat, booze and sex, which lingered in the air. Goodness knows what happened here last night: not that she wanted to know.  
Walking carefully through the hallway to avoid the broken whiskey bottles and items of clothing all around, she quietly made her way to the foot of the grand stairway.  
A flash of a pink bra caught her eye. Great, she thought, he’s got company.  
The matching panties, to the bra, were lying half way up the stairs: well at least, Hermione conceded, there is only one this time. She had never quite recovered from the sight of Malfoy’s last threesome.

Reaching the double doors of Malfoy’s room, Hermione braced herself. She silently prayed that he was wearing clothes this time. Placing a hand on each of the doors handles, she pushed them down and flung the doors wide open.  
“Rise and shine Malfoy.” Hermione said, briskly, making her way inside the darken room. “Got to be at the studio in an hour.”  
Hermione had purposefully kept her eyes averted from the bed, but she looked over when she heard a familiar, distinctly male and very pissed off voice, grumble,  
“Sod off Granger. It’s the bleeding weekend for hell’s sake.”  
“It is not the weekend Malfoy, but Wednesday. One of the five days which you are required to work.”  
“Some of us, Granger, have a life.” Draco replied, untangling himself from the bed sheet and sitting up, “You should try it sometime.”  
Hermione tried to ignore the definition of his prominent chest muscles, now exposed from the bed covers. She was grateful for how dark the room was, when she felt the tell tale signs of a blush creeping up her neck.  
“Maybe, Malfoy, I would occasionally get a life, if I wasn’t having to babysit your privileged behind all the time.”  
“So you’ve been thinking about my behind, have you Granger?” Draco said, his voice teasingly husky.  
Hermione could now feel the blush reaching the tips of her ears.  
“Never you mind what I think about Malfoy.”  
“Like I give a damn, Granger.” Malfoy replied, loftily.  
Swinging his legs out of the bed, Malfoy turned to her and said; “Now if you wouldn’t mind turning round, Granger, I wish to protect my modesty. Can’t have you threatening sexual harassment law suits around again, can we?”  
Hermione quickly turned around; the last thing she needed was that image burned into her brain. 

Once he had found the robe he’d dropped next to the bed last night, Draco made his way towards the door and the waiting Hermione. Walking past her, he said,  
“Just going for a shower, nothing better for waking up the vocal chords.” Gesturing a hand behind him he added, “Deal with her would you, I want her gone by the time I’m back.”  
“Do you at least know her name?” Hermione spat back at his retreating figure.  
“Now Granger, why would I bother with trivial things such as names?”

 

It had taken ten minutes of crying, one of Hermione’s famous pep talks, and a present to get the girl to agree to leave.  
Her name had turned out to be Lavender, and while Hermione thought she was a nice girl, she also considered her to be a bit gullible at the same time. Draco, after all, had an infamous reputation as a Lothario.  
However, no matter what these girls knew about the singer, Hermione still found herself every few days in this same situation.  
The first few times she was required to do this, she had thought that a rational explanation of the situation would do the trick.  
But after that time when that redheaded country singer had punched her and accused her of trying to steal her ‘Draky-poos’: Hermione decided she needed to change her tactic quickly.  
The presents had been a rather ingenious idea of hers. In one Malfoy’s many safes, Hermione had started to store a range of reasonably expensive designer jewelry, and she would give an item to each of the girls as something of a parting gift. Claiming that Draco had chosen it especially for her. The system worked quite well.

It took half and hour to get Lavender out of the house and into a taxi home, paid for by the record studio, of course. By that time Hermione could hear that Draco had finished his shower, and was clomping about upstairs, whistling obnoxiously to some old rock and roll tune.  
Searching through Draco’s medicine cupboard for the aspirin and a glass of water, she prepared the other tradition which Draco always required the morning after he’d been drinking.  
When Draco walked into the kitchen, his dark sunglasses hiding what had to be bloodshot eyes, he held both his hands out and Hermione put the aspirin in one and the water in the other.  
Hermione waited patiently as Draco downed the pills and water, his face going from a rather sickly white to his normal paleness, as he ingested the water.  
Idiot probably is dehydrated, Hermione internally thought, judging by all those whiskey bottles.

“So,” Draco said, conversationally, “how long did it take this time to get that girl to leave. What was her name again; Daisy? Lilac? Pansy?” He grinned, lewdly, “No,that was the one of the girls from last week.”  
“I thought you did not remember names.” Hermione coldly said.  
“Hey, you know my memory never kicks in till after ten.”  
“Hummm. Well you’ll be disappointed to know that Lavender,” Hermione emphasized the name with a hard glare at Draco, “only took thirty minutes to leave.”  
“What! Only thirty minutes? I thought that bimbo would take at least an hour to get rid of.” Nudging Hermione’s ribs with his elbow in an affectionate way, he added, “Either you are getting really good at this Granger, or I’m losing my touch.”  
Hermione grimaced: both suggestions were alarming possibilities.  
Luckily for Hermione, before she had to cogitate more on Draco’s touch, her phone beeped with an alarm; they had ten minutes to get to the studio. 

 

The studio building was established in the city center. It was a large architecturally modern design, filled with glass and brushed chrome. The studios themselves were based in the basement, with a private lounge rooms attached to each one. That was where Hermione and Draco found the rest of the band when they arrived. Seated on the brightly coloured couches were the other two remaining band members: Blaise Zabini who played bass guitar and Grawp who played the drums. No one was quite sure what Grawp’s real name was, so every one just referred to the drummer by his stage persona. 

When Hermione and Draco walked in, Grawp acknowledged the pair with a slow wave then continued to look at the music score for today. Grawp was a man of few words. However, Blaise was not so placid. The dark man, of Italian descent, was still aggravated by Marcus Flint’s departure of the band and blamed the whole incident on Draco. Hermione could not exactly blame Zabini; it had mainly been Draco’s fault. Although Draco to this day still maintained that whole thing had been a huge case of mistaken identity. She had to laugh at that one: yes it was always an accident when you slept with your band mate’s girlfriend, of two years, on multiple occasions. 

“Malfoy, how humbling of you to grace us with your presents.” Blaise sarcastically addressed Malfoy. Malfoy just smirked, and just pulled out a cigarette and a lighter.  
“Sod off Blaise.” Draco acidly said, while lighting the cigarette. “Maybe you should get off that high horse occasionally and come join us rats in the gutter.” He finished, mockingly bowing in Zabini’s direction as he did so.  
“Boys, that’s enough.” Hermione quickly interjected, placing her body between the two men. She gave Draco a glare and ripped the cigarette out of his mouth, stamping it out on an empty plate.  
“No smoking Malfoy.” She said pointing to the sign, “Or did your education not extend to reading.”

Before Malfoy could answer her, in some sarcastic way, she clapped her hands and spoke loudly to the three men,  
“Gentlemen, before we start recording today I have an announcement.”  
“What, that Draco couldn’t keep his cock in his pants for five minutes? Sorry to break it you Love, but we are already all aware of that.” Interrupted Blaise.  
“Shut it Zabini!” Draco yelled; rising from the seat he had been slouching in.  
“That’s enough!” Hermione shouted, but she was drowned out by Zabini’s deep voice.  
“No. You’ve the reason Marcus buggered off. You think that I am going to sit back anymore-”  
Before Zabini could finish his rebuke of Malfoy, the booming roar of Grawp, who had stood up on his two tree trunk size legs, cut him off.  
“Stop!” The gigantic man bellowed, his booming voice echoing round the room. His eye were angrily moving between Malfoy and Zabini, daring them to see what would happen if either of them spoke.  
“Miss. Hermione” Grawp started slowly “Is speaking. And both you”, he pointed to Draco first and then Zabini, “and you, will listen.” Grawp almost seemed to have exhausted himself with that, for he fell back down into the whole coach he had been occupying.  
Hermione a little taken back with the large man’s adamant defense of her and hesitantly started to speak again,  
“Thank you Grawp, that was very kind of you. Right, now what I have to say is that the record company is not comfortable with the band having one less guitarist. So, from today onward we will be having a new member join our band.”  
She could feel the surprise emitting from each of the men in front of her. She could understand any reservations they might have; even she had felt a little uncomfortable at the idea. They had all been together since the bands formation.  
“I can understand that this will be a tad disrupting for a little while, however, I know the gentleman who will be joining us and I can vouch that when it comes to guitars, there is no man better.”  
“So, who is this bloke?” Blaise, interjected.

There was at that point a knock at the lounge door.  
“Come in.” Hermione called out.  
The door opened to revel a tall slender man. His long dark hair rippled down past his shoulders and was streaked with grey. His thin, yet handsome, face adorned with a mustache, which underneath a bright smile peeped out. In his hand he held a battered guitar case, which was covered in stickers ranging from all around the world. 

“Sirius. How lovely to see you again.” Hermione greeted him warmly.  
“Wait!” Draco sharply said.  
“Are you telling me that our new lead guitarist is The Sirius Black?”


	2. Chapter 2: Nirvana

This chapter contains prank and pun humour- you have been warned ;) 

 

Chapter 2: Nirvana 

“I'm not looking for girls or cheap thrills and pills,  
Or happy to sit on your merry-go-round, no, no  
I don't think there's an easy way out of here.  
But when the music is loud, we all get down.”   
\- ‘Nirvana’ by The Cult (1985)

“Are you sure that you are up to this Sirius?” Harry asked, casting a concerned look at his Godfather.  
“Don’t worry about me old chap.” Sirius said smilingly, as he sat down in one of the plush leather chairs in Harry’s office. “It’s about time that I got back into the music scene.”  
“I just worry, what with the anniversary of Dad’s death being so close-”   
“Now Harry,” Sirius hurriedly said, interrupting Harry, “don’t give you give another thought to me.”  
Standing up Sirius walked over to Harry. Placing his hands on each of Harry’s shoulders, he looked up straight into his Godson’s eyes and spoke,  
“Don’t worry so much Harry. I know there-”, at this he paused and his features changed: regret and remorse over shadowed, “have been times in the past where I have not coped, have let anger take over. But I should have realized that James was never really gone; not when his son holds so many of his unique qualities.”   
Sirius’s dark eyes tenderly met the brilliant green of Harry’s. 

“Now, Harry, tell me about this band that you need my help with.” Sirius said, cheerfully, walking back to the lounge area of the office and sitting down.   
Sitting opposite Sirius, Harry grabbed a file, flipping open its brown cover he flicked through the wad of pages inside.   
“The band’s name is The White Ferret, and-”  
“The White Ferret. There has to be a story behind that name?”  
“I believe there is, a university prank gone wrong; about the lead singer getting a ferret stuck down his pants.”  
Both Sirius and Harry started to laugh at that.  
“The dilemma is Sirius” Harry began again, all business, “is that the band is one of our best selling, almost as popular is Titan Fury.” At the name Titan Fury Sirius’s eyebrows raised,  
“Almost as good as Titan Fury, that says so much.” Sirius sarcastically added.  
“Yes Sirius,” Harry said, equally sarcastic, “We all know your opinion on Titan Fury’s music. But like it or not they are the labels best selling rock band.”  
“But that Krum chap is an idiot!”  
“Yes, I know. But he sells.”  
“Fine. You are after all the boss.” Sirius said, teasingly.  
“Right, getting back on topic. The situation is that this band is good, but they are a wild card. The lead singer, one Draco Malfoy, is to put it bluntly a prize twat.”  
“What’s this Malfoy chap done to be so condemned? I mean other than get a rodent stuck down his trousers. Then again, back in the day James and I could have been considered the definition of wild. But-”  
“Well…he may have recently caused his friend and lead guitarist to leave the band, due to being a bit overly friendly with said guitarist girlfriend.”  
“Ah, who needs enemies with friends like that.”  
“Exactly.” Agreed Harry, shuffling the files papers, like a news reporter. “But since then, Sirius, the band’s sales have taken a severe dive.”   
“It seems like the audience of today are developing a bit more of a moral conscience, compared to a few years ago.”  
“The news articles have been quite damning.”  
“Lets have a look.” Sirius held out his hand for Harry to pass him the article clipping. 

Pulling out a pair of half-moon spectacles from his pocket, Sirius began to read,  
“Lead singer of The White Ferrets, Draco Malfoy, has once again been caught with his pants down round his ankles. The self-proclaimed rock god, this month, was found ferreting around with none other than the lead guitarist’s, Marcus Flint’s, girlfriend, of the past two years. The heart broken Flint, in an exclusive interview with yours truly, has talked of how he found his now ex-girlfriend and ex-band mate performing a horizontal version of ‘pop goes the weasel’, in Flint’s London flat. Flint, on finding the two ratters at it, says that his first reaction was to violently remove Mr. Malfoy’s person from his apartment, with extreme prejudice. Upon returning to his apartment Mr. Flint explained, in great depth, how he proceeded to remove any particles, which ‘that ferret’, may have left. The spacious London flat is now available to buy. Regrettably, it is unfurnished as Mr. Flint burnt everything that could have been contaminated with Mr. Malfoy’s ferret. Unfortunately we cannot publish Mr. Flint’s exact words, as they would need heavy censoring.   
Article continues on Page. 9- Written by Rita Skeeta.”

Once he had finished reading, Sirius gave a low whistle.   
“Wow. That was scathing. I didn’t even know that there were that many rodent related puns inexistence.” He gave a little shiver, “Just reading that makes me want to hire an exterminator.”   
Harry was looking, a little forlornly, at the wedge of numerous other articles, which the file held.   
Noticing this, Sirius leant over and took the file from Harry. Placing it on his lap he proceeded to remove all the newspaper cuts and articles from the file, placing them on the floor. Where they belong, Sirius angrily thought. What now remained in the file were a few sheets of A4 paper defining who, what, and where the band was going. Scanning quickly, a name jumped out at Sirius,   
“Hermione. You’ve got Hermione Granger managing this band?”  
“Yes.” Harry said, surprised, “Why do you ask?”  
“Doesn’t she usually work with those teen pop sensations.”  
“Usually yes. But she discovered The White Ferrets, asked if she could managed them. Between you and me” Harry said, conspiratorially, “I think she was a bit bored of high voices and side fringes, and wanted a bit of a challenge.”   
“This is good Harry.” Sirius uttered, “She’s a genius when it comes to this. No one can make a grown man feel more like a small child, than she can.” Leaning back in his chair, Sirius continued, “I once saw her, at a festival in Munich, make three metal heads cry like babies, with her scolding.”  
“How did she do that?”  
“Mentioned the men’s mothers, and the disappointment they would feel at their son’s behavior.”  
“What had they done?” Asked Harry.  
“They had sneaked back stage and were leaving sex toys in intricate places round the site. The worst one was that they had replaced all the lead band’s microphones with…’sausage’ shaped objects.”  
The men’s outburst of laughter at that image had both red faced and crying.  
“H-how did I not hear about this?” Harry said incredulously, still laughing.  
Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, Sirius replied, “I can imagine that she kept the whole thing shushed up. Hermione would have hated for something like that to have happened on her watch.”  
“Yes she would of.” Harry agreed. “So you’ve met her before, have you Sirius?”   
Sirius nodded in the affirmative, “Just a few times, mainly through rock music events. I thought it was surprising to see her there at the time, but from what you’ve now told me, it makes more sense.”  
“I do worry about her.” Harry said, his voice going serious.  
“Harry, you worry about everybody.” Sirius said, lightly teasing.  
“I know, but I’m a bit concerned if she can handle such a difficult band as The White Ferrets. Particularly what with the recent situation.”  
“That’s just a blip. All bands go through them, especially ones in the rock and metal genera of music: we’re renowned for scandals.” Sirius replied, winking at Harry.   
Harry gave Sirius a small smile of assurance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed please do comment :)


	3. Trouble

Chapter 3: Trouble 

Trouble, I hear the clock tick in the room  
The walls will crumble, and you’re holding  
The match between the fuse  
[…]  
Following the bullet back into the gun.   
Trouble by Ryan Adams, 2014

“Sirius, how lovely to see you again.” Hermione greeted warmly, as Sirius entered the room.  
“Wait.” Sirius heard a sharp voice interject. Looking over he saw that the voice had come from a tall lean man, with blond hair so light that it could be considered well, white. Ah, Sirius thought, this must be the infamous lead singer: the one who gets ferrets stuck down his trousers.   
“Are you telling me that our new lead guitarist is The Sirius Black?” The blondie demanded with considerable force. And by the look blondie was throwing him, Sirius was not his favorite person. Deciding to be the better man, Sirius extended the hand of friendship, and placing his most winning smile on his face said,   
“That’s exactly what she’s saying old boy. Pleasure to meet you. You must be that famous lead singer I’ve been hearing all about.” Ok, Sirius had to admit that maybe the smile wasn’t so much winning but toothy, like one a shark would give at a little fish.  
Blondie took Sirius’s extended hand, in a cool firm grip.   
“Draco Malfoy.” Blondie drawled, meeting Sirius’s sharky smile with a smirk of his own. The hand holding Sirius’s ever so slightly tightened its grip: trying to let me know you’re the alpha, are you blondie? 

Hermione’s head was going back and forth between the two men like one of those ridiculous nodding dogs in the back of cars. Flitting her brown eyes from each head, one light the other dark; she couldn’t help but feel the tension in the air. Obviously Malfoy’s inflated ego couldn’t deal with someone more famous than him in the room. She could have almost kissed Blaise, as the dark young men walked over to introduce himself to Sirius, breaking the tension that had almost been palpable.   
“Blaise Zabini, Sir. I play bass. Sirius Black, its such an honor to meet you. You were the first record my dad ever played me!” Hermione heard Blaise gush. Hermione smiled, as Sirius, ever gracious, took the young musicians hand and said,  
“Good to know that us oldies are still getting listened to by you youngsters.”   
“The Marauder’s were my favorite band when I was a kid. Ah what was that song the one about…bourbon?” Blaise questioned.  
“Ha-ha the song is called ‘Whiskey like Fire’. James wrote than one after a particularly nasty fight with Lilly: the old romantic liked making references to her fire like hair. Lily was very forgiving after that.” Sirius grinned and threw a winking, in only a way that an aged rocker can. 

“Sirius?” Hermione’s voice called out. She was standing by a very large man, so large in fact that Sirius had to take a step back to get the man’s whole frame in view. Walking over to the very odd pair, Sirius smiled.  
“I presume this is the drummer?” Sirius questioned, addressing the both of them.  
“Yes, this is Grawp.” Hermione introduced. Sirius wasn’t quite sure how she did but Hermione pushed this gigantic man forward, a mothering look upon her face as she nudged Grawp’s hand up for Sirius to shake. Sirius nervously took Grawp’s shovel sized hand: the man had fingers like bananas.

“It is nice to meet you Mr. Black.” Grawp’s low voice slowly pronounced.  
“Pleasure is all mine, lad.” Sirius replied, although he had to concede that ‘lad’ didn’t quite seem appropriate considering the size of Grawp. However, Sirius was surprised at how gently Grawp held Sirius’s hand within his own: a gentle giant then.

All the men’s heads drew to attention as the sharp sound of Hermione’s clap drew their attention.   
“Right gentlemen, I think we should get on. Now, Blaise and Grawp would you mind showing Sirius the ropes with the chords of a few of the songs; get him a feel for your style.” Hermione said, ushering the three men out of the lounge and into the studio next door. Sirius looked round once, as he left the room, and he couldn’t help but notice the glower that Draco gave Hermione. Obviously, this was a slight ploy of hers to get Draco alone. 

Shutting the lounge door, behind the trio, Hermione spun round to face Draco. His pale face was sneering, his grey eyes hard and steely.  
“What the fuck Granger.” He spat the words at her.   
Hermione kept his gaze head on, her own eyes flashing with anger, but she did not reply. She knew all Malfoy’s games by now.   
First: anger.  
“What the fuck are you playing at Granger, bringing some old prick like Black into my band?” His fists were clenched, she could feel his rage radiating towards her.  
Second: sarcasm.   
“What does Black know about music anyway, he just clung onto the genius of another man- The Marauders were a joke.”   
Malfoy stalked towards Hermione, who was still standing by the door. He loomed over her, looking down his nose.   
Thirdly: intimidation.  
“Do you somehow think in that blinkered mind of yours Granger, that you can control me?” He gave a dark laugh, “As if a woman like you could ever do that.” Malfoy looked her up and down; from her curly head right the way down to her heeled clad feet. She could feel his litigious gaze roving her body: analyzing, assessing. It made her feel as if there were fire ants on her skin.   
“What?” Draco said, moving closer to whisper in her ear. His breath was hot against the side of her face, causing her to shiver. “Cat got your tongue, Granger?”

Snapping her head back away from Malfoy’s, Hermione raised her eyes defiantly to his.  
“To you Malfoy I always have something to say.” She said, coldly; contempt layered in her voice. She placed a hand on his chest, firmly pushing him back and out of her personal space. Striding away from him, she walked to the middle of the room, getting as far away from him as possible without running.  
“Listen her Malfoy. This band is not yours” He opened his mouth to argue at that, but she cut him off before he could object. “No, don’t you dare say another word. I repeat this is not your band. You do not pay for your albums, organize concerts or even play a musical instrument. You are simply here as the pretty face to please the crowd.”  
Malfoy smirked at that and drawled, “You think I’m pretty do you Granger?”   
“Very pretty. And very replaceable.” Hermione bit back, a smirk of her own playing around her lips.  
“You wouldn’t dare.” Draco said in a low voice.   
“Try me Malfoy. I dare you.” She replied, her eyes narrowing into slits. “Now you are going to play nice with Mr. Black.” She commanded, “He has twice as much experience as you do, and don’t forget that that of The ‘joke’ Marauders made them the most successful and influential band in the past century. You can criticize when you’ve done better, Malfoy.”   
Draco spoke in a low voice, “You can count on it Granger, I will be the best you’ve ever seen. Even with your high standards.” And with those parting words he stalked out of the lounge and into the studio.   
Hermione sank down into one of the lounge chairs, which were dotted all over the room. Her heart still hasn’t settled down, she could feel the beats hitting against her chest in a fast rhythmic tempo. Smoothing her hands over her face, she sat back and wondered why her heart only ever beat this exhilarating rhythm when she crossed swords with Draco Malfoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all the follow, comments, and kudos   
> Hope you all keep reading ☺


	4. Evil Walks

Chapter 4: Evil Walks

Black shadow hangin' over your shoulder.  
Black mark up against your name.  
Your green eyes couldn't get any colder,  
There's bad poison runnin' through your veins.  
\- Evil Walks by AC/DC, 1981

Hermione slipped off her heels the moment she had shut the door to her apartment. It was past eight. Peace at last, she though. For a whole twelve hours there would be no egotistical rock musicians, no shouted arguments and most importantly no damn Malfoy. Just the remembrance of his waspy behavior this afternoon caused the muscles in her shoulders to tighten with stress. Although, Hermione had to admit that it had been a productive afternoon. Draco had considerably calmed down once he started channeling his excess energy into music: they’d covered a lot of the band’s angrier song. And she had enjoyed seeing Sirius play, the man was utterly deserving of his legendary status within the music business. She must remember to get him to look over the sheet music for the new album; it would be interesting if he could arrange things differently. 

As she walked along her hallway towards her kitchen, Hermione caught her reflection in the mirror she had hanging by the coat stand. Her tightly curled hair was slightly puffier than it had been this morning, but she liked the extra volume tonight, it formed a dark halo that framed her face. Her eye make up was a tad smudged, but as she usually kept her makeup to a minimum she didn’t look too much like a panda. More like a koala. 

Smiling at that thought she moved away, entering the kitchen and turned on her kettle. The metal device started to steam and rattle as it boiled the water inside of it. Placing her bag on top of the kitchen tables yellow cloth, she sat and took out her notes from that day, to scan. She did this every working day evening, she felt it was professional to review the day and it certainly helped her tackled next morning’s projects; when ultimately she’d be rearranging, organizing press releases and the tour management. A tinny whistle emitted from the kettle, signaling that it was finished boiling. Stretching her arms above her head, she felt the satisfying click as her shoulders relaxed. Making her way over to the kettle she dropped three tea bags into the teapot, sloshed water over the top of the bags and left the pot to brew. She was making her way back to the table when her home phone rang, with a shrill ringing. 

How odd, who could be calling? Hermione thought, as she suspiciously picked up the phone from the casing.   
“Hello?” She said into the tiny speaker.  
“Hermione, why aren’t you picking up your mobile?” It was Harry. The record producer’s voice sounded hurried and strained.  
“I’m sorry Harry, I’ve been making my way home and didn’t hear it ring.” Then she added, cautiously, “Why? What’s wrong?” But she already had an inkling what could have happened, or more appropriately who.  
“It’s Malfoy.” Harry said, confirming her suspicions.  
“What’s he done now?”  
“Check Channel 4.”  
Hermione went to her sitting room, keeping the cordless phone to her ear. She grabbed the controls from the coffee table and clicked the on button. The flat screen came to life, with a bright light. Flicking to channel 4 Hermione immediately saw what the problem was that Harry had called her about. There, in glorious Technicolor, was an inebriated Malfoy being ‘escorted’, by two bald security guards, out of one of the A-listed bars he frequented. Hermione quickly clicked the mute button; she already could guess what had happened.  
“Oh dear.” Hermione said out loud.   
“I don’t think ‘Oh dear’ covers it, Hermione.”  
“Fair. Ok, has he been arrested yet?” She asked, walking briskly back into the kitchen and shoving her belongings back into her bag.  
“Not exactly. But he is in police custody.”  
“Which station?”  
“The usual.” Harry said. That, at least, explained why he hadn’t officially been arrested then.  
“Right, Harry I’ll go down there now. Get him bailed out and cleaned up.”  
“Its because I brought in Sirius into the band, isn’t it?” Harry asked, sadly.  
“Don’t worry, Harry. No one understands the inner working of Draco’s mind.” Hermione said, kindly, trying to comfort her friend and boss. “Harry, would you mind trying to suppress the media coverage though? I don’t think I can keep an eye on Malfoy and do that at the same time.”  
“Sure Hermione. Give me a call later with an update.”  
“Absolutely. Bye Harry.” Hermione stabbed a finger onto the exit call button.

Walking into the police station the first thing that Hermione’s senses noticed was the overpowering smell of disinfectant and sweat. That particular combination of smells seemed to always be lingering here whenever she visited here, which she had to admit was quite frequently. An older woman with grey hair, tightly pulled back into a bun, was sitting behind the reinforced glass that covered the reception desk. The little plac on her desk read ‘Miss. Pince’. Hermione couldn’t help but think the name suited her, as the Miss. Pince in question threw Hermione a sour look; it made her mouth pincer together, as if she was sucking a lemon.   
“Hello,” Hermione greeted, “Hermione Granger, here to see Superintendent Weasley.”   
“Do you have an appointment?” Miss. Pince demanded, glaring at through the glass that separated the two women.   
“No. However, he will want to see me.” Hermione said, confidently meeting Miss. Pince’s stare with one of her own; Hermione could outstare a cat.   
“Wait over there.” Miss. Pince said, breaking eye contact and pointing to a row of hard looking plastic chairs, along one wall.  
Hermione sat and placed her bag on her lap, instead of down on the blue plastic lino floor. Looking over at the reception desk Hermione could see Miss. Pince on the phone, her mouth moving in conversation, which was inaudible at this distance.

A couple of minutes later the dark coloured double door,s next to the reception, were pushed open and a smiling face called,   
“Hermione!”   
Getting up from the plastic chairs, Hermione entered the warm embrace of Arthur Weasley.  
“Hi Arthur, so good to see you. How have you and Molly been?”  
“Lovely to see you dear. Molly and I are well, nothing to report. How are you?” Arthur Weasley gave Hermione a searching look, noting her tired eyes and tense shoulders, “You seem tired Hermione.”  
“I am a bit.” Hermione agreed, checking her watch and adding, “It been a long day, and its not over yet.”  
This seemed to remind Arthur of the reason that Hermione was actually here.  
“Course.” He said. Taking her by the arm he lead her towards the doors, which lead into the heart of the station, “This way Hermione. The quicker we get this done the sooner you can go home.”

Hermione and Arthur passed by the curious looks Miss. Pince was giving, and through the double door, which Arthur had just come through. The pair entered a large office room, crammed with desk and bussling with uniformed officers and plain clothed men and women. Walking up to a desk, which was covered in brown files and sheets of paper so that the surface’s colour was indistinguishable, Arthur addressed the handsome young man sitting behind it.   
“Wood?” Arthur said, catching the young man’s attention. “This is Miss. Granger. She is here to see”, at that Arthur paused, and moved closer to Wood so that he could whisper, “Mr. Malfoy.”   
Wood’s eyes lighted up with understand as they fell on Hermione.   
“Yes Sir. I’ll take her to him now.”  
“Thank you Wood.” Arthur said. Turning back to Hermione he spoke, “Wood will take care of you now Hermione. I promise, I’ll do my best to control the situation. But don’t worry dear, it’s nothing too serious; he’s done worse.” Arthur said, trying to reassure her. Smiling on last time at her, he left, waving once, as he weaving in between the desks making his way out through another set of doors.

Hermione had known Arthur for years; he was the father of her High School sweetheart, Ron Weasley. Ron was her first love, they had dated for over two years but they had gone their separate ways for university: it was difficult to keep any relationship strong when there was an entire countries distance in between. However, her and Ron had ended amicably, which she was glad about because the Weasley clan was the friendliest and most loving family she had ever met. Plus, she thought, as she watched Arthur’s retreating figure, they were friends in high places.

A small cough caught her attention, breaking off her thoughts. It was the Sergeant who had coughed. Her eyes locked on to his, as he stood up and spoke in a charming Scottish lilt,   
“I’ve put him in one of the interview rooms. He’s calmed down quite a bit, you’ll be pleased to hear…but he does keep singing.” He grimaced slightly. Hermione couldn’t blame him, she’d heard Draco’s drunken songs before hand; his lyrics were considerably creative.   
“Lead the way.” Hermione said.

The interview room block was a dingy little corridor, with black doors lining each of the pale green walls. Walking up to a door marked with a brass number 3, Wood opened a small hatch in the door, which Hermione saw was a little window into the room.   
“Here he is Miss; safe if not completely sound.” Wood said, smiling at her as he opened the interview rooms’ door. “If you want come fetch me when you’re done and we can work out the next step.”   
Hermione braced herself and went through the open the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, thank you for all the reads and kudos, its great to know people are enjoying :)


	5. You Could Be Mine

Chapter 5: You Could Be Mine

While you're breaking down my back,  
I’ve been rackin' out my brain.  
It don't matter how we make it  
'Cause it always ends the same.  
-You Could be Mine by Guns N’ Roses, 1991

The stench of alcohol was prominent as she walked into the small room; she presumed the smell was coming from Draco. Her first glimpse of Malfoy, as Wood closed the door, was of his reflection in the two-way mirror. His long blond hair was matted, hanging in clumps and obscuring his face. His white shirt was stained in yellow patches; she didn’t even want to know how that had happened. The buttons of the shirt were done up, but straining at his chest from where his hands were cuffed from behind his back. Suddenly, he threw his head back, opened his mouth and horrible singing came out from the gapping orifice,  
“I’m a cold heartbreaker, fit ta burn and I'll rip…” He hiccupped, “your heart in two. And I'll leave you lyin' on the beeed.” Draco’s warbled singing cut off as his head fell forwards on to his chest again. From under his hair she heard him hiccup again.  
“My, you do look a bit of a sorry sight.” Hermione commented, conversationally; as she sat in the only other chair in the room, which happened to be across the table from Draco. 

At the sound of her voice, Draco’s head lolled up. His hair parted to reveal one bloodshot eye.  
“Granger!” He said, a singsong lilt to his voice. “My darling Granger come to see me. Do sit down.”  
“I already did.”   
“Really? Don’t you know that is terribly bad manners Granger? To sit before your host tell you too. I’ll tell my father about this.” Draco said slurring.   
“I’ll tell my father. Tell me Draco, we’re you this much of a brat at school?” Hermione asked.  
“Noooo” Draco extended the o’’ sound so that the word petered off to a drunken howl of ‘o’s’. “I was much worse.” He gave her a lopsided smile and giggled inebriety at her from behind his curtain of hair. Getting up from the metal seat, Hermione moved round table to stand next to him. She lifted her hand to his face, pushing back his hair. His sloppy smile remained as he looked up at her, clearly now that the hair was out of his face.   
“Hermione.” He said, pronouncing each syllable separately so that her name sounded more like ‘Her-my-no-nee’.  
“Yes?” Hermione replied, in spite of her self; who knew what drunken ramblings were going to spill out.   
“Why-” He started, a confused look on his face, “why are you always…arguing with me?”  
“Because Draco, unfortunately when sober, you are an unfathomable ass to work with.”   
Pulling her bag towards her across the steel tabletop, she reached in and pulled out a packet of wet wipes. Taking one, she secured her hand under Draco’s chin and smoothed the cloth over the sides of his face, working in slow motions so not to startle him.   
“If it makes you feel better Draco.” Hermione said, as she wiped down the singer’s nose, “You are being very nice right now. I have very little desire to argue with you.”  
Sighing she looked at his face, noting the too pronounced cheekbones and sallow skin: he wasn’t looking well.   
He gave her another droopy smile, and closed his eyes. God, she hoped he wasn’t going to fall asleep on her. 

“Wake up Draco.” She commanded, wiping the cloth over his eyes. She did need answers after all.  
“Now” She started, giving Draco a stern look, “Do you want to explain to me what happened tonight, or would you like me to ask the nice policeman?” She finished, giving him a stern look.   
“Nothing happed tonight.”  
“You are in a police interview room and handcuffed to a chair. Explain.”   
“Hey the handcuffs aren’t that bad, I’ve grown quite accustomed to them. You see Granger, I use them a lot.” He gave her a suggestive wink.  
Hermione rolled her eyes; even when utterly out of it he still had the ability to piss her off. She raised the wet cloth in the air,  
“I will slap you across the face with this.” She warned.  
“Kinky.” Draco replied.  
Hermione sighed and picking up the whole packet of wet wipes, slapped him across the face with that instead.  
“Ouch! Bloody hell Granger, why did you do that?” Draco wined.   
“I did warn you.” Hermione said, justified in her actions.  
“With A wipe- not the whole bleeding packet.”  
“I decided your lewdness deserved a harder hit.”  
“Remind me not to piss you off while I don’t have the use of my hands, again.” Draco said, rolling his eyes.  
Hermione noticed that his sentences were flowing better, less jagged: he must be sobering up. Such a shame, she’d rather liked happy drunk Draco.

Pulling a water bottle from her bag, she unscrewed the lid and placed the bottle in front of Draco.  
“Wow Granger, are you sure you deserve that title of genius? Because if you remember I can’t use my freaking hands!”  
“Shut it bozo.” Hermione spat back. She was rummaging through her bag, muttering to herself, “I knew I put one in here. Ah!” She said, pulling her hand out, “Found it!” She held a long pink bendy straw in her hand, which she placed in the water bottle.   
“See now Malfoy, you don’t need the use of your hands.”  
Draco looked annoyed at the straw.  
“Couldn’t you have picked a more masculine colour Granger?” He drawled.  
“If you act like a drama queen, then you’ll get treated like one.”   
Draco thought about it for a second, did a half shrug and put his lips to the straw and sucked up the water.   
“Fuck.” He exclaimed, after he’d taken his first sip.  
“What now?”  
“Nothing. I just realized how utterly shit I was feeling.”  
“I feel no pity for you.”  
“You’re a hard woman Hermione Granger.” He said, reproachfully.  
“Don’t be such a baby, you’re a rock star- you should be used to hangovers.”  
“For some reason I deal with them a lot better when I haven’t got a nosy brunette bothering me.” He glared at her.   
“Or attached to a chair by handcuffs?” Hermione sarcastically said.  
“Hey I wasn’t joking when I said I was used to them. Its great, I can nod off with them on and not be concerned about falling off the chair.”

Hermione just sent him a scolding look at that. He winked in answer. Turning her back to him she moved back to the other chair, on the other side of the table and sat back down.   
“Ah, so the interrogation begins.” Draco dryly commented.  
“True.” Hermione snapped in reply. “What else happens in an interrogation room?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics that Draco sings are also from Guns N’ Roses song You Could Be Mine. 
> 
> Thank you to all the fab comments and kudos for the last chapter.
> 
> Hope you like the next one…
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own 'Harry Potter'


	6. Scary Monsters (And Super Creeps)

Chapter 6: Scary Monsters (And Super Creeps)

She could’ve been a killer   
If she didn’t walk the way she do,  
And she do.   
She opened strange doors  
That we’d never close again.  
-Scary Monsters (And Super Creeps) by David Bowie, 1980.

“Really, Granger. Nothing happened!” Draco angrily said, slumping back into the chair.  
“Getting arrested isn’t nothing Malfoy, now spill. I can’t help you if I don’t know.” Hermione implored. She was trying to gain eye contact with him, but Draco kept his eyes averted by looking at the celling.   
“I wasn’t arrested…just forcibly detained.” Draco sarcastically snapped back.  
“Just because you were not ‘officially’ arrested, does not mean that you might not be.” At ‘officially’ Hermione raised her hands in quotation marks.  
“Look Hermione, I seriously don’t want to discuss it.” His voice was raspy and, Hermione was surprised to note, seemed defeated. What could have caused the great Draco Malfoy to feel defeated?   
“It’s about Astoria isn’t it?” Hermione quietly asked.  
“Don’t say that bitches name!” Draco shouted, meeting her eyes for the first time in minutes; the grey orbs were still bloodshot but there was a wet shine to his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Ok, Hermione thought, so it is about her.  
“I’m sorry Draco.” She didn’t know what else to say.  
“Ah!” Draco yelled, “She was with that my fucker of a father again. Just swaggering around- as if they have the right to, sick bastards, the pair of them.” He angrily looked down. His breathing was ragged and Hermione could see the muscles of his shoulders visibly tensed under his white shirt.   
Hermione looked at him, she felt helpless: there was nothing she could do to dissipate the frustration and humiliation he was feeling. She was wracking her brains, trying to think of something, anything to say to him, when she was startled by the furious command of Draco’s,  
“Get me the fuck out of these cuffs Granger: I need to fucking hit something!” 

She involuntarily shrank back from Draco’s fury; it was instinctive. Taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to try and calm her heart rate, which was beating like a rabbit’s, she tried to sound soothing as she spoke to the man in front of her,  
“Draco, you know I can’t do that. What I do need, is to know what occurred between your plague louse of a father and that she- vampyre.”   
The laugh Draco gave her at her choice of insults was witless, but she was pleased to notice that the murderous look in his eyes had now lessened.   
“Ha- ‘plague louse’ Granger? That was practically cutting for you.” He smirked at her.  
“Well I have rather strong feelings about your father.” Hermione said, giving Draco a matter of fact look.   
“Thanks Hermione.” Hermione liked to think that the smirk he gave her when he said that had a touch more of a smile than it normally did.   
Draco sighed and said, “Ok, Granger I’ll tell you what happened, but you’re not going to like it.”  
“I never do.”  
“True. I was at Salathazar’s Mouth, you know that bar that is made to look like a medieval dungeon?”  
“Yes, I am aware of that ghastly place.”  
“Anyway. I am there-”   
“Alone?”  
“Yes.” He glared at her, “Alone.”  
“Unlike you?”  
“Well…I had a lot to brood about.”  
“About Sirius Black?” Her tone was canny.  
“Yes. About Black.” He conceded, giving her a scowl, “Can I continue now?”  
She nodded.  
“I’m sitting there, minding my own God-damn business, when I see the albino Count Dracula and his undead hag walk in. I swear Granger, I tired to avoid them.”  
“Sure you did Malfoy.” Hermione said with slight sarcasm: Draco was hardly a passive person.  
“But they saw me. And Astoria, being the vicious cow that she is, just had to drag my da…him over to show me what a beautiful ring she had- it looked more like a shiny coffin to me.” Hermione snorted at that. “And tell me how wonderful it was that in only two short month she would be my new and ‘improved’ mother.” Draco spat that last bit out, his voice layered with undisguised loathing.  
“Improved! I can’t believe she said that!” Hermione knew that Astoria was a nasty piece of work but she thought the bimbo had a limit.  
“Yes, she did.” That murderous glint was back in his eyes again. “And my son of a bitch father just stood there. He just stood there as that witch said that about mum! So…” He looked a little uncomfortable now, almost as if he was getting ready for Hermione’s disapproval, “So, I poured my drink over her head and then punched my father in the face. Fuck, it felt good. Got the old pervert down in one hit!” 

Hermione could count on one hand the amount of time she had been made speechless. Ironically, all of those times had been because of something Draco had done. This time was no different.   
“You did what?” Hermione asked, disbelievingly.   
“I punched him unconscious.”  
Hermione dropped her head into her hands: they were doomed. Draco looked at the forlorn form of Hermione and started to panic. He could deal with her yelling and shouting, but just being quiet like this made him nervous.  
“I had too Granger- he did nothing while she was insulting my mum memory!” Draco’s said slightly pleadingly.  
Hermione took a deep breath in and out and she lifted her face from where she had been hiding in her hands.  
“Draco.” She said calmly, “Do you think one of these days we could get to the point where our biggest problem is what clothes you are going to wear on stage and not these soap opera dramas between one messed up father an son?”  
Draco was silent at that. She looked so weary, sitting hunched up opposite him: and he knew that it was his fault.  
“I- I am sorry Granger. He said sincerely, looking down at the floor.  
“Ok Draco this is what we are going to do-”  
Hermione started by she was cut off by the loud bang of the room’s door being slammed open and the angry male voice shouting,   
“You little sod! What the hell have you done now!” 

Both Hermione and Draco turned their heads towards the open door, and standing there was the furious frame of Sirius Black. Hermione immediately stood up and raised her hands in a sign of peace towards Sirius,   
“Sirius, please don’t-” Hermione began to speak, but Sirius cut her off again,  
“No Miss. Granger do not make up any excuses for him! You are meant to be keeping this puppy” he gestures a hand at Draco, “on a leash.” Sirius yelled, his stare boring into Hermione.   
“Oi! Black leave her out of this. Its my cock up not hers.” Draco shouted, glaring at Sirius from his chair, as he was still cuffed and unable to get up.  
“I am sure that it is your fault Malfoy, but that doesn’t excuse Miss. Granger’s incompetence.”   
“Shut it Black, Granger is anything if not totally competent.” Draco answered back, his face red. Speaking to Hermione, Draco demanded, “Granger get me out of these damned cuff would you, I really need to punch that tosser Black.”  
“How mature of you Malfoy- reverting to violence from the start.” Sirius jeered back. He moved closer to where Draco was cuffed, taunting him with his proximity which Draco could do nothing about. Bending down so that his face was at Draco’s level, Sirius whispered, “Your just a chip off your father’s block, aren’t you?”   
“I am nothing like my father!” Draco roared and Hermione noticed that the veins in his forehead had become pronounced and visible. She decided that she’d had enough. Grabbing the back of Sirius’s jacket she pulled him away from Malfoy and sternly said,   
“That is enough Sirius!”   
Sirius looked surprised as he was forced away from Draco and looked upon the angry face of Miss. Granger.   
“You, Mr. Black, can hardly criticize people’s maturity when you make low jabs like that.” She outstretched her arm and pointed a single finger towards the open door, “Now leave, I will talk to you outside.”   
Hermione was relieved when Sirius left the room without a word, as he passed her she noticed that he looked positively shell shocked, almost as if he had woken from a nightmare. At any rate she would worry about him later, at the moment she had Malfoy to deal with. 

“Draco, are you alright?” She asked softly, walking over to him.  
“What the fuck do you think, Granger?” Draco spat back.   
“Ok, that is fair.” She conceded. “I am going to talk to Black.”  
“Like talking would get through that fucker’s thick skull.”   
“Pretty sure I’ve said that about you before, just minus the expletive. But I did manage to ‘get through’ yours- so have a little faith.”   
Draco just grumbled in response.   
“I’ll go and talk to the police about getting these cuffs removed and then we’ll get out of here. But let me get rid of Black first. But Draco?” he looked up at her, meeting his grey eyes to her warm chocolate ones, “You must promise me that you won’t go looking for Black?” 

Draco scowled at that, but Hermione was giving him a pleading look.  
“Ok Granger, I won’t go after Black tonight.”   
Hermione didn’t like the ominousness of ‘tonight’ but she didn’t think she’d get a better agreement out of Draco at the moment.  
“Thank you Draco.” She said and she slipped out of the open door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thank you to all the comments and kudos. They all just make me want to write faster :)


	7. Rock n’ Roll Suicide

Chapter 7: Rock n’ Roll Suicide 

You’ve got your head all tangled up but if I could only make you care.  
Oh no love! You’re not alone.  
No matter what or who you’ve been,  
No matter when or where you’ve seen.  
\- ‘Rock n Roll Suicide’ by David Bowie, 1972

She closed the interview room door, clicking the handle shut. Pausing, she leaned against the wall next to the door. Her face crumpled. But just for a second. Taking a deep breath, she schooled her features into a non-descript expression and began to walk back down the corridor towards the police head quarters. As she approached she heard the ever-nearing sounds of life: laughter, phone rings, chatting voices, coffee mugs clinking. All these sounds of human interaction just made her feel less like she could be human. She had a professional façade to maintain and once she rounded that corner these moments of vulnerability would have to end. She lived in a man’s world. 

On reaching the thresh hold of the police office door, Hermione allowed herself to stop once more. Just a few more seconds, she promised herself, just a few more seconds of feeling and then I will be the proper Miss. Granger again. She counted down the moments on her watch; the thin spiked hand ticked the seconds past, getting ever closer to the tweleve. Three. Two. One. She pushed herself round the corner and emerged into the yellow lite body of the police station. Hermione noticed Wood, the officer who was in charge of Draco’s case who was nervously looking at Sirius. Sirius was sitting on a worn wooden chair by Wood’s desk. Hermione was slightly pleased to see that Sirius looked unhappy; one hand was balanced on his knee his fingers tapped out an erratic beat on the cap. His other hand cupped his chin, his thump smoothing over his lightly bearded jaw. He looked beaten.

“Wood?” Hermione called out as she neared them. Her shout had attracted Wood’s and Sirius’s attention. Both men stood up as she approached, but Hermione swept past Sirius and directed her demands to Wood.   
“Wood, could we please get Mr. Malfoy’s cuffs removed? That is, of course, if the station intend to take the charges no further?” She looked at the young officer questioningly.   
Wood’s Scottish brawl was humble, obviously he felt uncomfortable at having let an irate Sirius slip past him.  
“Yes, Miss. I do not believe that we will be taking this further, and no charges will be pressed as Mr. Malfoy was not officially arrested.” Wood replied.  
“Great.” Hermione said, nodding approvingly at Wood. “What about Malfoy Sr., any news on him?” Inwardly Hermione couldn’t decide if she would like to hear if Lucius was unharmed or that Draco had done some serious damage to that bastard.  
“Malfoy Sr. has been released from hospital, no concussion. We took his statement, he doesn’t seem keen to make a complaint.” Wood replied, uncomfortably rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “Although,” He added, “Miss. Greengrass was endeavoring to persuade Mr. Malfoy otherwise. However, much of her statement about the incident did not seem to be based on much fact…” Wood tailed off avoiding Hermione’s stare.   
She felt a little sorry for Wood; it wasn’t his fault that he was caught up dealing with the Malfoy mess.   
“That all sounds fine Wood.” She said, giving him a small smile, “Please do inform me if anything changes?”   
Wood nodded in agreement and fished some keys out of his pocket. Gesturing with one hand to the corridor that Hermione had just exited, Wood said,  
“I’ll just go and see about getting Mr. Malfoy released.” 

Hermione watched Wood’s retreating figure. She felt her shoulders tense. She could sense Sirius’ presence behind her, awkwardly hovering.  
“Hermione?” Sirius quietly said.  
Hermione breathed deeply and turned round to face the guitarist.   
“Yes?” She asked, coolly.   
“Hermione…I- I am so sorry. What I did in there was awful.” Sirius stuttered.  
“Yes, you are right it was awful.”  
At the unrelenting tone of her voice Sirius visibly flinched. Falling back into the wooden seat Sirius let his head fall into his hands. From between his fingers, Hermione heard his muffled voice speak, “And I am sorry.” He removed his hands from his face, looking up at her, “For not only insulting your professional conduct.” Hermione raised an eyebrow. “But also for stooping to such low insults with Mal-Draco.” His voice was sad and Hermione begrudgingly admitted, very sincere. She felt her hostility melt away. Ultimately she was going to have to work with this man and that was not even considering how he was her boss’s Godfather. What a mess.   
“I do appreciate the apology Sirius. And thank you for making it. But you have got quite a bit of damage control with Draco.” She met Sirius’s gaze, “He does not forgive easily and practically when it is about his father.” At her words Sirius visibly winced, regret scouring his features.   
“Yes, I understand. I am ashamed that I would compare Draco with Lucius. No matter how many stupid things that boy does, he can never be as bad as he father is.”  
“You know Lucius?” Hermione asked in surprise.  
“Yes. He actually went to school with us; that is James, Remus and I.” Sirius said. He scowled and added, “I can’t say that we we’re ever friends.”   
Interesting, Hermione thought. She had been unaware of any connection between Harry and Draco’s families. Still, there was something bugging her.  
“Sirius, how did you know that we were here? That this was to do with Draco’s father?” Hermione asked, giving Sirius a suspicious look.

Sirius looked a bit guilty when she asked that. Clearing his throat he said, “Well you see Hermione, I- I” Sirius stuttered, looking even more uncomfortable now. “I may have been the one to call the police?”   
Hermione looked dumfounded at him.   
“What did you say?!”   
Sirius played with the collar of his jacket.  
“I was the one to call the police.” He admitted quietly.  
Hermione slumped against the side of Wood’s now empty desk, resting her palm on the cool wooden top.   
“Are you honestly telling me Sirius, that the reason I haven’t had dinner, am not tucked up comfortably in bed and have instead spent most of my evening in a police interrogation room, is because of you?” Hermione’s voice was incredulous and dripping in acid.   
Sirius said nothing, only looked at his slightly scuffled shoes. 

Glaring at the top of Sirius’ head, Hermione shoved her hand in the depths of her bag, which was balanced on her shoulder, and fished out her mobile phone. Typing out of series of complicated numbers into the tiny phone, Hermione bought the device up to her ear. After three rings a gruff male voice answered the phone. Sirius couldn’t distinguish what the man on the other end of the line was saying but the voice did not sound like a friendly one.  
“Hi, it’s Hermione here.” Hermione greeted, speaking into the phone. “Oh I’m fine, just a little tired.” Hermione paused as she waited for the man to reply. Smiling further at what he said, she responded, “I know, don’t worry I promise I’ll take a holiday soon. But for now a couple of cars would be great?” The man obviously replied in an affirmative, as Hermione specified where they were, “I’m at the police station, you know the police station. Can you send two cars?” She laughed slightly and what the unknown man had said and continued, “Thank you dear, soon as possible would be great. Cheers.” Hermione took the phone away from her ear and dropped it back into her huge handbag. Turning back to Sirius she cleared her throat, a sign that she wanted his attention. He lifted his head up from where he had been examining the floor, but could not meet her eyes. 

“Black.” She addressed him as one would a naughty child; a tone mixed with disappointment and repressed anger. “I have a car coming to pick you up. You will get in it. You will go home. You will consider a good explanation for your actions, which I will be hearing tomorrow. Nod once if you understand.”   
Sirius, shamed faced, nodded once.  
“Good.” Hermione said, standing up from where she had been leaning on the desk. “Now get going Black.” She commanded, grasping Sirius’s arm lightly tugging him up off the seat, “I don’t want you and Malfoy meeting, I don’t have enough patience to deal with that again.”  
Sirius stood up, the chair creaked as he lifted himself off it. Slinking a hand into his pocket Sirius threw a glance in Hermione’s direction, wanting to gage her level of rage. But she was looking away from him, her eyes trained on the opening to the corridor where Malfoy could appear at any minute. Maybe he ought to get out of here; he wasn’t sure how well he’d fair in a fistfight with the younger Malfoy.   
“I am sorry Hermione.” Sirius softy said. Her gaze never left the corridor. Sirius looked once more at the pretty brown haired women and turned away, leaving through the big swing doors which he had so hastily stampeded through not even twenty minutes ago. The sharp night air hit him as he left the station, walking briskly down the concrete stairs to the pavement he noticed two black cars parked neatly outside. As he approached the cars, the door of car nearest to him opened to reveal a rather pretty young woman with dusty pink hair. She smiled at him; her eyes sparkled with recognition. Well, he thought, at least someone is happy to see me.   
“Mr. Black is that you?” The young woman inquired, as she offered him her hand to shake. “I’m Tonks. One of Moody’s lots. Come to escort you back to you’re home.”   
“Please call me Sirius. I do apologize I am not sure who this Moody chap it?” Sirius asked, an apologetic lilt to his tone. Tonk’s eyes faltered slightly but she soon recovered. Opening the backseat door to the car she gestured for Sirius to enter, and with a cheeky grin said, “Get in. I’ll explain on the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for having taken so long to update. all my deadlines for essays came to ahead so i put this on the back burner. but now i am back and will keep with the weekly plus updates again. Thank you for all the comments and kudos. hope you enjoy. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the characters. 
> 
> I have rated this story M for swearing (because no self respecting rock band doesn’t swear profusely) and for sexual references. 
> 
> I haven’t come up with a name for the band yet, if anyone has any ideas do let me know ☺.


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